“As for their garth, it is strongly walled about with a dyke newly dug; on the top thereof are they building a wall made of clay, and burned like pots into ashlar stones hard and red, and these are laid in lime.

  “It is now the toil of the thralls of our blood whom they have taken, both men and women, to dig that clay and to work it, and bear it to kilns, and to have for reward scant meat and many stripes.  For it is a grim folk, that laugheth to see others weep.

  “Their men-at-arms are well dight and for the most part in one way: they are helmed with iron, and have iron on their breasts and reins, and bear long shields that cover them to the knees.  They are girt with a sax and have a heavy casting-spear.  They are dark-skinned and ugly of aspect, surly and of few words: they drink little, and eat not much.

  “They have captains of tens and of hundreds over them, and that war-duke over all; he goeth to and fro with gold on his head and his breast, and commonly hath a cloak cast over him of the colour of the crane’s-bill blossom.

  “They have an altar in the midst of their burg, and thereon they sacrifice to their God, who is none other than their banner of war, which is an image of the ravening eagle with outspread wings; but yet another God they have, and look you! it is a wolf, as if they were of the kin of our brethren; a she-wolf and two man-children at her dugs; wonderful is this.

  “I tell you that they are grim; and know it by this token: those captains of tens, and of hundreds, spare not to smite the warriors with staves even before all men, when all goeth not as they would; and yet, though they be free men, and mighty warriors, they endure it and smite not in turn.  They are a most evil folk.

  “As to their numbers, they of the burg are hard on three thousand footmen of the best; and of horsemen five hundred, nowise good; and of bowmen and slingers six hundred or more: their bows weak; their slingers cunning beyond measure.  And the talk is that when they come upon us they shall have with them some five hundred warriors of the Over River Goths, and others of their own folk.”

  Then he said:

  “O men of the Mark, will ye meet them in the meadows and the field,

Or will ye flee before them and have the wood for a shield?

Or will ye wend to their war-burg with weapons cast away,

With your women and your children, a peace of them to pray?

So doing, not all shall perish; but most shall long to die

Ere in the garths of the Southland two moons have loitered by.”

  Then rose the rumour loud and angry mingled with the rattle of swords and the clash of spears on shields; but Fox said:

  “Needs must ye follow one of these three ways.  Nay, what say I? there are but two ways and not three; for if ye flee they shall follow you to the confines of the earth.  Either these Welsh shall take all, and our lives to boot, or we shall hold to all that is ours, and live merrily.  The sword doometh; and in three days it may be the courts shall be hallowed: small is the space between us.”

  Therewith he also got him down from the Hill, and joined his own house: and men said that he had spoken well and wisely.  But there arose a noise of men talking together on these tidings; and amidst it an old warrior of the Nether-mark strode forth and up to the Hill-top.  Gaunt and stark he was to look on; and all men knew him and he was well-beloved, so all held their peace as he said:

  “I am Otter of the Laxings: now needeth but few words till the War-duke is chosen, and we get ready to wend our ways in arms.  Here have ye heard three good men and true tell of our foes, and this last, Fox the Red, hath seen them and hath more to tell when we are on the way; nor is the way hard to find.  It were scarce well to fall upon these men in their garth and war-burg; for hard is a wall to slay.  Better it were to meet them in the Wild-wood, which may well be a friend to us and a wall, but to them a net.  O Agni of the Daylings, thou warder of the Thing-stead, bid men choose a War-duke if none gainsay it.”

  And without more words he clattered down the Hill, and went and stood with the Laxing band.  But the old Dayling arose and blew the horn, and there was at once a great silence, amidst which he said:

  “Children of Slains-father, doth the Folk go to the war?”

  There was no voice but shouted “yea,” and the white swords sprang aloft, and the westering sun swept along a half of them as they tossed to and fro, and the others showed dead-white and fireless against the dark wood.

  Then again spake Agni:

  “Will ye choose the War-duke now and once, or shall it be in a while, after others have spoken?”

  And the voice of the Folk went up, “Choose!  Choose!”

  Said Agni: “Sayeth any aught against it?”  But no voice of a gainsayer was heard, and Agni said:

  “Children of Tyr, what man will ye have for a leader and a duke of war?”

  Then a great shout sprang up from amidst the swords: “We will have Thiodolf; Thiodolf the Wolfing!”

  Said Agni: “I hear no other name; are ye of one mind? hath any aught to say against it?  If that be so, let him speak now, and not forbear to follow in the wheatfield of the spears.  Speak, ye that will not follow Thiodolf!”

  No voice gainsaid him: then said the Dayling: “Come forth thou War-duke of the Markmen! take up the gold ring from the horns of the altar, set it on thine arm and come up hither!”

  Then came forth Thiodolf into the sun, and took up the gold ring from where it lay, and did it on his arm.  And this was the ring of the leader of the folk whenso one should be chosen: it was ancient and daintily wrought, but not very heavy: so ancient it was that men said it had been wrought by the dwarfs.

  So Thiodolf went up on to the hill, and all men cried out on him for joy, for they knew his wisdom in war.  Many wondered to see him unhelmed, but they had a deeming that he must have made oath to the Gods thereof and their hearts were glad of it.  They took note of the dwarf-wrought hauberk, and even from a good way off they could see what a treasure of smith’s work it was, and they deemed it like enough that spells had been sung over it to make it sure against point and edge: for they knew that Thiodolf was well beloved of the Gods.

  But when Thiodolf was on the Hill of Speech, he said:

  “Men of the kindreds, I am your War-duke to-day; but it is oftenest the custom when ye go to war to choose you two dukes, and I would it were so now.  No child’s play is the work that lies before us; and if one leader chance to fall let there be another to take his place without stop or stay.  Thou Agni of the Daylings, bid the Folk choose them another duke if so they will.”

  Said Agni: “Good is this which our War-duke hath spoken; say then, men of the Mark, who shall stand with Thiodolf to lead you against the aliens?”

  Then was there a noise and a crying of names, and more than two names seemed to be cried out; but by far the greater part named either Otter of the Laxings, or Heriulf of the Wolfings.  True it is that Otter was a very wise warrior, and well known to all the men of the Mark; yet so dear was Heriulf to them, that none would have named Otter had it not been mostly their custom not to choose both War-dukes from one House.

  Now spake Agni: “Children of Tyr, I hear you name more than one name: now let each man cry out clearly the name he nameth.”

  So the Folk cried the names once more, but this time it was clear that none was named save Otter and Heriulf; so the Dayling was at point to speak again, but or ever a word left his lips, Heriulf the mighty, the ancient of days, stood forth: and when men saw that he would take up the word there was a great silence.  So he spake: